Need
by AnguaMarten
Summary: Farnese struggles with conflicting emotions. Serpico/Farnese.


She had known it was coming.

That was it all along, wasn't it? Their destination. Their goal. Whatever Farnese had felt for Guts, she'd never had any illusions that he felt it for her. It was always Casca. Farnese had grown to love her in the time she'd spent caring for her, the same way a little girl loves a wounded bird. So while she was glad Casca had been cured—she would never doubt that she deserved it, after what she'd been through—she had to mourn the loss of that time. The time when Casca was just a ghost in Guts' past, not this strange, fierce warrior-woman that he loved.

That made her a terrible person, certainly, but that was nothing new. Farnese craved fire and blood and sex in ways she knew were perverse. It had been a joke, hadn't it—the pure pious maiden, commander of the Knights of the Iron Chain, who pleasured herself at night to thoughts of tortured men and screaming women.

Did they know that part of her? Some of it, yes, but the full extent? They hadn't known her as a child. Only Serpico had been there. He'd always been there. Sometimes she wondered about that, why he hadn't left her yet. After everything she'd done, after she'd had him burn his own mother, he was still around. He still waited on her and followed her orders.

He hadn't run away with her, though.

The boat they had taken off Elfhelm was smaller than Farnese would have liked—her quarters were too close to Guts' and Casca's. She could hear them. Fucking. Ragged breaths and moans and low whispers, sounds she would have killed to get out of Guts. She could have put a pillow over her head, blown out the lamp, and ignored them—but she didn't. She wanted him, even now. And she was sick enough to pleasure herself to the sounds he made with another woman.

Farnese felt her cheeks grow hot as she sunk further and further into the pleasure, thinking less of her inhibitions and more of the way she felt. She could have this fantasy, even if it was all she had, just for tonight—

"Farnese?" It was Serpico, knocking at her door. "I just wanted to see—"

"Serpico." Her arousal made her bold. "Come in."

If he was shocked to find her lying on the bed with her hand between her legs, he didn't show it. Serpico was handsome and obedient as ever, indulging her psychoses like he'd done when they were children. Maybe that was why she'd loved him.

"Is there anything you require, my lady?"

He didn't usually call her that, but she was glad he did. My lady. Farnese liked having power. And right now, she needed some. Someone. Something.

She looked up at him with wild glassy eyes and flaming cheeks, and said, "Come."

He obeyed.

She said, "Touch me."

He smiled at that. "Certainly, Miss Farnese."

She was already mostly naked, with her trousers brought down around her thighs, but he fully removed them. He kissed between her breasts and along her stomach before he began to stroke between her legs. First gently, playfully, then harder and with a roughness that brought her deeper into the pleasure. She could feel his nails digging into her flesh, and it thrilled her.

"Lick me," she said.

Again, he obeyed. Serpico trailed his mouth down to her warmth and kissed, sweet and ravenous.

"Harder," she said.

And now there were teeth, and his hands clawing up her back to twist her breasts. Farnese struggled not to cry out, instead biting her tongue and grabbing for a handhold. She ended up grasping a candle and spilling the melted wax onto her hand, which made it even harder to hold back. Pain, heat, flame—they only made it better.

She pushed Serpico back and poured the hot wax over his chest, delighting in the whimper he gave before bending over her once again. That was when she knew she wanted him—him, and completely. The way she'd wanted him when they were younger.

"Fuck me," she said.

She helped him out of his clothes, tearing them slightly in the process. They were tossed onto the floor in a crumpled heap. He kissed her, ferociously, tearing at her skin and pulling her hair as she struggled to crawl onto him.

"Have you ever done this before?" he asked.

Farnese shook her head. There was a brief flash of understanding in his eyes—open, for a change—before he pulled her onto his lap. He spread her legs and bit at her neck before sliding his fingers inside her, clawing and pleasuring simultaneously. There was nothing but them, like it had been before, when they were just two terrifying children in a house of flames—

He entered her, causing Farnese to gasp and tear at his back. She drew blood, there was blood from her legs, but it was the best kind of pain and the best kind of pleasure. She rolled her hips against his, wanting to toss her head back and let out a low moan. Farnese resisted for an instant and then gave in, wrapping her fingers around his throat and struggling to keep quiet. Wave after wave of pleasure hit her, different from any she'd ever known.

"I'm coming," she gasped, "I mean I'm going to come—"

And she did, and for a glorious minute her entire world was blood and warmth and twisted satisfaction.

She let Serpico stay in her bed that night, her fingers still twisted in his hair. He was the one person who wouldn't leave her. Couldn't leave her.

She slept deeply and dreamlessly.


End file.
